The Black (The Black Trilogy Book 1)

by J. M. Scarlett

  “Sir!”

  The call came from out in the water. One of the divers bobbed along the surface, holding something in his arms. The boat slipped beside him, and they were both heaved into the boat. First, the thing in his arms, and then the diver.

  General Harper stared down at the thing he had found, the wet lump laying on the deck, as pale as a ghost and barely breathing . . .

  Adam.

  “It was all I could find,” the diver said, yanking off his breathing mask. “It’s a madhouse out there. The current’s way too strong with the storm.”

  “Shall I notify Dr Albrecht that we found one of her studies?” someone asked.

  He couldn’t believe it. Adam. He was alive.

  “Sir?”

  The General snapped his head up, finding a handful of faces staring at him.

  “Do you want me to notify Dr Albrecht?” one of them asked.

  He looked down at the small child, the rusty wheels in his brain slowly churning. “No,” he avowed. “No one say a word. Secure him and let’s get out of here. I know a better place to take him.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “After that I was taken to a place much like the island, filled with scientists, only it wasn’t on an island,” said the outsider from his spot on the floor. “I didn’t see Mother, but there was this chamber and a laboratory. It was huge. The General was supposed to return for me, but never did. And that’s the last thing I remember.”

  Off Karma’s look, he said, “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She sat across from him, looking completely dumbfounded.

  “Whatever,” he mumbled. “I don’t care anyway—”

  “Adam,” she croaked.

  He looked at her. “What did you just say?”

  She didn’t blink, didn’t breathe.

  “Adam. I don’t believe it. You’re Adam.”

  How could this be? she wondered. He was just a child when this happened. It’s been sixty years. It wasn’t possible. There was no way, and yet . . . Here he was, right in front of her. The boy from her grandfather’s journal.

  “You know who I am?” he questioned, rising from the floor.

  She nodded. His identity wasn’t the only realization she came to.

  “My grandfather,” she said. “He was Captain David Benton.”

  She knew it. She felt it the minute she heard his famous line out of Adam’s mouth, “I’d rather be crazy than helpless and blind.” Now she knew who he got it off of. It was Eve, poor Eve who they never found after the wreckage. But if her grandfather was really Captain David Benton, then what happened to the real General Harper? His eyes dipped to the floor, and she took the opportunity to study his face. He looked so young for someone who was over sixty years old, hypothetically speaking of course, but then again cryopreservation was an astonishing thing. What would her grandfather say, she wondered? What would he have done if he knew Adam was still alive after all these years? As much as she wanted to fear him, hate him even for what he did to Dr Carter, a soft place deep inside her couldn’t help but feel bad for him. All the things her grandfather wrote about him and his sister, all the horrible experiments performed on them, she couldn’t imagine what it must have been like. Torture didn’t begin to describe it.

  A shriek echoed outside the room, reminding them that they were not alone.

  She looked at him and squinted. Her eyes narrowed. “Adam,” she said, focusing on the trickle that had developed beneath his nose. “You’re bleeding.”

  He reached up and touched it, staring at the blood staining his fingertips.

  “Oh no,” he murmured. “She’s here . . .”

  Who?”

  “Mother.”

  * * *

  Ben hadn’t moved, not a muscle, not since witnessing the ruler of the Nest get dragged away and devoured by those hideous creatures. He remained in the shadows, trembling behind a series of cold pipes, sobbing to himself, too frightened to move. What an idiot he had been? After hearing Arlington’s screams, he was convinced more than ever there was no way Karma was still alive, not with those things running around—

  Stop your whining and man up, he could hear his teachers say, the ones that taught him how to be a watchman—the ones that were now laying in pieces on the floor. Muster your courage and get out there!

  But he couldn’t.

  Every time he tried to move from his spot, a sound or a shadow would send him groveling back, whimpering like a child. What a wimp he must look like? he thought as he stood there like a statue in terror, alternating between fits of tears and fits of hopelessness. He could see Hawker and the rest of his training squad, pointing a finger and laughing at him, ghosts from his past come to haunt and taunt him, reminding him he was no watchman . . . he was a coward. And a coward was all he would ever be.

  This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go, he told himself. It wasn’t what he had in mind when he ran out of the Vault. But how could he save his sister, when he couldn’t even save himself?

  Then he heard another voice, one he hadn’t heard in a very long time. It was the voice of his father.

  You can do it, Ben. You have to move. You can’t stay here forever. Your sister needs you.

  But I can’t, Dad. I can’t do this. Everyone was right. I’m no hero. I’m just a coward.

  Only cowards don’t take chances. Now move—

  His father was right. He couldn’t stay here; he had to keep moving and find a way down to the lower levels—

  There was a voice and this time it wasn’t in his head. It came again, from somewhere above, not shrieks but shouts: People. He peered out from behind the pipes and saw flashlights bouncing through the darkness, dozens of them, flowing down the hallway, coming toward him. The watchmen! They must have reopened the Vault and were coming to save him! Coming to save them all! Oh, thank God! Just in time, too. He was about to reveal himself, when something stopped him—

  “Find him!” he heard someone say and saw a glimpse of a barrel. The voice he didn’t recognize. Nor the gun. It wasn’t the typical rifle the watchmen were assigned to. These guns were heavy duty.

  He changed his mind and stayed hidden. These were no watchmen; he could tell by the style of their armor. He watched from the shadows as a league of soldiers decked in white marched past him. He’d never seen them before and wondered if they were from another silo. There was a screech and a blast of fire and something fell from above, squealing in pain. It was a Flesh Rotter. More soldiers came barreling down the hallway, whisking past him. More gunshots sounded, more streams of fire, and more creatures howled.

  As soon as the last of them faded down the hallway, he stepped out from behind the pipes, staring after them, unsure of what to do. They obviously came from the Vault, which only meant one thing . . . His mother—

  A hand fell on his shoulder, startling him. He spun around and looked up into the black eyes of an old woman, masked in a pair of shades. She nodded to the two guards that flanked her sides.

  “Take him.”

  * * *

  “Mother,” Adam uttered.

  They heard the gunshots from above, followed by a series of deadly shrieks. As if things couldn’t get any worse.

  “Are you sure?” said Karma.

  He looked at her gravely, pinching the bridge of his nose to stop the bleeding. “I can feel it.”

  It was a strange answer, but by now, she was willing to believe anything. If he could read his sister’s mind, then maybe he could read Mother’s, too.

  “What does she want?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer; he didn’t need to. It was a stupid question. It was obvious what she wanted. She wanted Adam.

  The gunshots sounded again, and for the first time since their meeting, she saw fear in his eyes. Adam was afraid. A man who could kill Flesh Rotters with his bare hands was scared to death of the woman who had created him. And that’s what terrified her.

 
; He grabbed the flashlight and flicked it on. They were inside a lavatory, surrounded by urinals and sinks. He went from stall to stall, banging the doors open, the light gleaming off his panic-stricken face.

  “There has to be another way out of here,” he grumbled. “Help me look.”

  She stood, staring at him. There was no way out. They were trapped. It no longer mattered if they managed to get the power going or not. By the sounds of the gunfire, their time had run out.

  “Why don’t we hide?” she suggested, reaching for his arm.

  He shook her off, angry at the suggestion. “No,” he growled. “You don’t understand. It’s not good enough. We have to get out of here—” he kicked the stall door, knocking it off its hinges. He pressed his back against the wall and slid down it, running his hands over his face, defeated.

  “If she finds me there’s no telling what she’ll do,” he said quietly.

  Karma stared at him, her heart breaking for him. She didn’t know what to do, what to say. She thought about her grandfather and everything he had sacrificed to save him; betraying his government, burning down a top secret lab, risking his life, stealing another man’s identity, all to help two children who never knew what freedom tasted like. Only if she could do the same, only if she could turn back the clock and change time forever, stopping Operation Blackout before it even began.

  “I guess we can’t give up then, can we?” she whispered.

  He looked up at her, a smile creeping across his face. “You mean it?” he said. “You’ll help me?”

  It was hard not to smile back. In many ways, he was still a child. “What are friends for?” she said, and his smile broadened.

  It was good to see him smile. Something told her, he didn’t do it enough. It was a shame, too, because he had a nice one. But just as she thought it, the smile slipped from his lips and his eyes widened.

  She looked at him, confused.

  “What?” she said. “What is it—"

  Something moved to her left, glinting in the beam of the flashlight. It was two eyes, peering out of the air vent behind her, flashing between the grates. She screamed as two clawed hands crashed through the vent cover and grabbed her, dragging her inside the duct. The creature shrieked, opening its jaws wide over her face. She snatched the hammer from her waistband and wedged it between its jaws. The monster freaked, banging against the metal duct, trying to shake it from its jaws—

  Two hands grabbed her feet and yanked her out. She cried out when she hit the floor, landing on her bad ankle, but the pain was nothing compared to her fear. The Flesh Rotter appeared from the darkness, emerging through the vent hole like a spider. It spit out the hammer, grinded to pieces, and hissed at her—something struck it across the face, denting its skull. Adam held a pipe in his hands. He struck it again and again and again and didn’t stop until it was dead, its brains all over the floor.

  He dropped the mangled pipe and ran to her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She was shaking, her heart racing. She threw her arms around him and squeezed him, unwilling to let go. She felt him stiffen beneath her embrace as the tears ran down her face. Adam slowly reached up and placed his arms around her, holding her, allowing her to cry on his shoulder.

  “It’s alright,” he whispered in her ear. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

  The words evoked memories of his own, memories of him and his sister that brought tears to his eyes, but it wasn’t long before they heard the blast of gunfire and the shrieks of dying monsters. They were no longer far away, but closer now, drawing nearer with every breath.

  “Adam,” she uttered. “They’re coming—”

  “It’s over,” he muttered. “You said yourself there’s nowhere to run.”

  She looked into his eyes. They were so delicate and yet so strong, so innocent and otherworldly. He didn’t belong here, she knew. He didn’t belong with them. He didn’t belong with her. Suddenly, it came to her—it came to her as she peered down at the monstrous thing sprawled out on the floor with half its skull bashed in.

  “That’s it,” she exclaimed. “Why didn’t I think of it before?”

  She jumped to her feet, stepping over the dead creature’s body and peered inside the empty shaft. Adam joined her side.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Her tears were replaced with happy ones. “It’s the air ducts,” she said. “They’re designed to keep a constant air flow streaming in and out of the Nest; they keep it cool and warm all at the same time . . . even during a power outage.” She turned to him. “Don’t you see, Adam? It’s how they got in. It’s how the Flesh Rotters found a way inside, and if they can get in through the air ducts, then . . .”

  “We can get out,” he finished for her.

  She nodded and Adam slid his hands over her cheeks like he wanted to kiss her, cradling her face in his palms. Part of her wished he would, but time was of the essence.

  “You’re a genius,” he said, “Just like your grandfather.”

  It made her smile. Yes, she was just like her grandfather. She would get the chance to finish what he had started all those years ago, she would find a way to save Adam, and this time, truly save him.

  The gunshots neared, they were coming, a hallway away. They had minutes, possibly even seconds to escape.

  “Hurry,” she said. “We don’t have much time.”

  He grabbed the edge of the vent and hoisted himself up, disappearing inside the shaft. She snagged the vent cover off the ground and planted it over the hole, clamping the mangled pipe between the grates, locking it in place. A second later, Adam’s face appeared through the bars.

  “What are you doing?” he said, wrapping his fingers through the bars.

  She stepped back from the air duct. “Go,” she told him. “You still have time to be free.”

  “This isn’t funny,” he said, shaking the grate. “Open this right now—”

  “I can’t go with you—” She jumped as something banged against the door. They were there; she could hear their voices. She turned back to Adam. “My mom and my brother are still out there. I can’t leave them,”

  “I won’t leave you,” he insisted.

  She laid her fingers over his. “You have to, Adam. You said yourself there’s no telling what she will do if she finds you.”

  He pressed his forehead against the bars, pleading with her. “Your grandfather helped me,” he said. “He did something for me no one else has. He changed my life, he saved it. I won’t leave you. I can’t—”

  There was another bang against the door and the metal popped. She was afraid, more afraid of Mother than she was of the monsters, but she couldn’t abandon her family, not until she knew what happened to them.

  She looked from the door to his face. “Listen to me,” she said. “You need to go. You need to find your family. Eve, she’s still out there—”

  His face changed in an instant; his eyes growing twice their normal size. “Eve?”

  A tear rolled down her cheek. “That’s right, Adam. She’s alive.” It was the only way to get him to go, she knew. “Find her. Find Eve,” the door rattled, the metal warping off its hinges, “she needs you, Adam. Now go. Be free and find your sister. Find her before Mother does.”

  He took a deep breath, bit his bottom lip in protest, and withdrew his fingers from the grate. “I’ll never forget this,” he whispered.

  It was the last thing she heard him say before the door flew off its hinges and clamored to the ground. A team of soldiers came charging in with flashlights and guns, ordering her to get down. She listened, dropping to her knees with her hands up.

  “Where is he?” a masked-soldier demanded.

  She squinted against the beam of his flashlight as he aimed it in her face.

  “Over here, sir,” someone barked and seconds later, they were wrestling the vent cover off the wall and shining their flashlights inside the air duct. She closed her eyes, pr
aying.

  “It’s clear.”

  She let out a sigh of relief. Her grandfather was looking down on her, she knew, proud at what she had done. They may have her, they may have her family, but they would not get Adam, not if she could help it.

  The one in charge returned to her, shining his flashlight in her face, blinding her. “Where is he?” he asked slow and deadly.

  This wasn’t Mother, this was one of her minions. Karma pursed her lips, wishing she could see the face behind the mask. If he was looking for answers, he wouldn’t get them.

  “Screw you,” she uttered.

  The commander laughed, standing to his feet. He started to walk away, then turned abruptly, and struck her across the face with the butt of his gun, painting her world black. She hit the floor, motionless, knocked out cold.

  “Bring her,” he said to the others. “Put her with the others.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The old woman stood on the bridge of the hovercraft, leaning on her cane, watching behind black glasses as the last of the Nest’s inhabitants were brought on board, moving in a single file up the ramp; most of them were still in shock. If Silo Zero had never come to their rescue, they would all be dead by now. She searched for Arlington’s face in the crowd, but the old fool was nowhere to be found, not even among the bodies that were pulled from the carnage. Not that there were many. The Flesh Rotters had turned the Nest into a slaughterhouse, doing exactly what their primal instincts told them to: Kill.

  The steel door behind her slid open and one of her commanders stepped through; his armor was gone, replaced with a white suit and a flat top hat, wrapped in a golden tassel. It jiggled near his ear as he crossed the deck and stopped before her, dropping to one knee.

  “Commander Albrecht,” he said, bowing his head. “I have news.”

  She waved a languid hand, giving him permission to speak; her dark glasses remained locked on the window.

  “We finished searching the entire silo,” the Commander reported. “We found a few survivors, but Adam wasn’t among them.”